Steadfast
by Deandra
Summary: The Harvest Festival is disrupted. ONE-SHOT. Part 201 of the Elfwine Chronicles.


_**Part 201 of the Elfwine Chronicles. The Elfwine Chronicles are a series of one-shots built around the family group of Eomer, Lothiriel and Elfwine. The total number will depend on how many ideas I get for new vignettes.**_

_**A/N: This one is something of a sequel to #186 – Warriors, though you don't necessarily have to have read that first.**_

**Steadfast**

**(Sep, 7 IV)**

Eothain drew a deep lungful of the fresh night air. It was a welcome relief from the warmth and closeness of the Hall. He enjoyed Feast days as much as anyone, but they did have their drawbacks, not the least of which was the prickling on the back of his neck. Even as he stood there, his eyes were roaming the vicinity, seeking any clue to what might be causing the sensation. During the years leading up to the war, he had felt such a thing several times, though not so often as he might have liked in order to be forewarned of trouble. The first time it had happened, and even the second, he had not fully realized what it meant. But by the third occasion, he knew it meant there was something coming, something his eyes did not see but that had pricked his awareness in some way. The frustrating part was in determining where to look so as to be prepared.

He had been uneasy going into this feast anyway, and this warning feeling did not help matters. As captain of the king's guard, he was charged with keeping the royal family, and the people of Edoras, safe. When large groups gathered to Meduseld for feasts, it was much easier for mischief to be concealed in the crowd and press of people. In the past few years since the end of the war, Edoras had seen more visitors not of Rohan. Things were supposed to be peaceful now, and such visitors not to be suspect, but he could not entirely manage that. Wariness was still his second nature, no matter how affable he might outwardly appear.

The recent agreement between Eomer King and Elessar of Gondor, granting more land to the kingdom of the Riddermark, was likely not well received in all quarters. Though the Enedwaith was sparsely settled and essentially unclaimed, it did anciently belong to Gondor, and so Elessar had every right to grant it to Eomer. And with the Elves departing Middle-earth, there was little reason not to extend their northern borders past the Limlight to the edges of Lorien. Despite knowing all the rational arguments, however, Eothain was still uneasy. He had been at the Hornburg when the Dunlendings gave their vow never to again raise arms against Rohan, but that had not been all the Dunlendings, and they could not make that vow for all their kinsmen. Not everyone would be pleased to fall under Rohan's rule.

With a sigh, Eothain worked his way down the steps, moving around the crowd coming up, chattering eagerly of the night's frivolities. It did not take long for him to reach the guard hut near the bottom of the stairs, still unable to discern a reason for the warning of his neck. Two men stood at the door of the hut, watching the guests streaming by toward Meduseld, but acknowledged his arrival with a nod of the head.

"All is well?" Eothain asked, turning to mingle his watchfulness with theirs.

"No sign of trouble, my lord," one advised, "though there are quite a few outsiders in the town tonight. That is…troubling."

"Aye," Eothain murmured, neither man elaborating further.

Just then, they registered Kialmar hurrying toward them, and all Eothain's senses went on the alert.

"My lord," he said somewhat breathlessly, "I do not know that there is…a problem, but I saw a group of five men who have the swarthy look of Dunlendings. I cannot say they did anything very suspicious, but something in their manner made me wary."

"Show me," Eothain instructed turning back up the hill.

xx

The festivities were in full swing. Laughter drifted through the open doors to the terrace, along with the smoky smells of the torches and scents of the food spread forth on groaning tables. Musicians were playing a lively tune, and a portion of the Hall was occupied with dancers, merrily stepping through their paces.

Gamling found it satisfying to look upon. In the nearly ten years since the War had ended, the Mark had prospered. The people were calling their king Eomer Eadig – blessed. Certainly Gamling would not argue that point. True, there were still enemies about, and Eomer had ridden with King Elessar several times to strike at the lingering foes, but this moment that was not a worry. People were happy and fed, homes had been rebuilt, and families grew to people them. Yes, the Mark was blessed under Eomer's leadership.

Gamling's eyes shifted, watching people wander out through the side door for some fresh air. He could not blame them, as the Hall could become warm from the press of people and energy expended in dancing. Much as he was tempted to follow their example, he was working tonight, as he was everytime there were visitors to Meduseld. He kept a careful eye on all that was taking place, directing servants or guards as needed to keep things flowing smoothly along. He caught a mug of ale from a passing server and took a couple of swallows to alleviate his thirst. Not too much, though – he wanted to stay alert.

As he glanced about to assess the evening's progress, several things began happening at once.

Five men with drawn swords burst in through the open doors to the terrace, elicting screams from a couple of the women nearest to them.

Gamling was standing near the refreshment table, closest to the terrace doors, when it occurred. In an instant, he registered the danger and looked to see the situation, though he was always routinely aware of where the royals were in the Hall. Eomer was near the throne, and farthest from threat, but Lothiriel stood not far from him near the center of the room, only now realizing something was amiss. Elbowing two people aside and leaping across a bench that had been knocked over, he caught Lothiriel's arm and pushed her away from the intruders. On the far side of the Hall, keeping to the shadows, he drew his sword, insinuating himself in front of the queen.

While he had been getting Lothiriel to safety, the intruders had advanced on the king. Much as Gamling wanted to go to Eomer's aid, he knew his first responsibility was protecting the queen. Eomer had made that very clear, and would not thank him for abandoning that charge.

The first assailant to reach the king found him waiting. Eomer lurched toward the man, then immediately fell back, luring the swordsman into a lunge that overbalanced him. The blade grazed Eomer's arm, drawing blood, but the injury did not impede him. The king's right fist slammed into the side of the man's head as he grabbed the sword hilt with his left. A second blow loosened the man's grip as he went to his knees, and Eomer wrested the sword from his grasp.

Now armed, he turned to face the other four assailants, who checked their attack when they saw that he had a weapon. They began to spread out, so as to overwhelm the king. At the back of the Hall, men were rushing to find swords and come to the king's defense, but with all the confusion, the guards were reluctant to arm anyone else until they were certain of the situation. Panicked citizens were flooding out the doors to the terrace in an effort to escape the attack.

Meanwhile, Eomer pitched into the swordsman nearest him, causing the others to break off from their strategy to move in. Eomer landed a blow on the man's leg and then fell back, putting the throne between himself and the remaining attackers. At that moment, the tapestries behind him were ripped aside as Eothain and four guards charged into the room from back of the throne.. With an outraged bellow, Eothain charged at the intruders, his men following closely.

As the tide had turned, having one man wounded and another disarmed, the group appeared to rethink their assault. By now, guards had pushed much of the crowd out onto the terrace and closed the doors. Men stood blocking that exit, with another two at the main entrance.

The intruders began a frantic assessment of their options. Two scurried toward the great doors at the front, but the guards were waiting with support from three others who stepped in to join them. Recognizing the futility of their escape efforts, the armed man tossed down his weapon and they both surrendered.

The other two, however, had spotted Gamling and the queen, standing separate from everyone else. They ran toward them, and the Doorward knew they intended to try and sieze the queen as a hostage to secure their safe passage. Gamling readied himself and, seeing the threat, Lothiriel kept herself well behind him.

Eomer had told him such a moment might come, when he would be the last defense of Eomer's family, and Gamling had trained as if it would, even though he had doubted anyone would attempt such a thing in the Hall, in his domain. Yet, here it was, and just as with Theoden, he was prepared to do his duty or die in the effort. Eothain and the guards, and even Eomer, would come to his aid momentarily, but until they did, only Gamling stood between Lothiriel and harm. _Not going to happen!_ he thought.

Gamling knew this hall intimately, every nook and cranny of it. He used the pillars to his advantage, working his way carefully toward the king. The swordsmen clearly did not wish to go in that direction, and made several attacks to draw him into battle, hoping to dispatch him. _Dunlendings_, part of Gamling's mind told him, from the look of them, though perhaps not full blood. It would not go well for Dunland if they had broken their oath never again to take up arms against Rohan. He might have wished to take them on in a full fledged fight, straightforward and honest, to prove he could best them, but that was not the wisest thing to do. If he fell, then Lothiriel would be vulnerable. Better to stall until help could come, and only fight if he must.

Already, he saw from the corner of his eye that Eomer and Eothain were moving to his aid. In desperation, one of the attackers made another lunge at him, but was rewarded only with a slash on his cheek, eliciting a howl of pain. His companion's movements became more cautious, but the man soon saw that it was too late – he was being surrounded by Rohirric swordsmen.

For only an instant he hesitated, then threw his sword to the floor in angry surrender, followed a moment later by his friend doing the same. Quickly guards caught hold of them both, collecting their weapons.

"Who are you and why do you dare bring violence into the king's Hall?" Eomer demanded, his sword tip at the throat of the seeming leader.

"You are nothing to us!" the man cried, spatting on the floor at the king's feet. "First you drive us from our homes here, and now you steal even the land where we have settled in the west. We do not recognize you as king over us. Cursed be you and your house, Forgoil!"

Eomer's mouth tightened. Tersely he instructed, "Imprison them!"

Guards hauled the attackers out of the hall, as Eomer struggled to get his anger under control.

"You knew there might be trouble when Elessar granted you the Enedwaith, Eomer. This is not entirely unexpected," Eothain quietly remarked.

"Yes," Eomer acknowledged with a heavy sigh, "but I did not expect them to bring the argument to my door with swords in hand." He glanced at his friend, then added, "Let the people return, and we will try to put this unpleasantness from our minds with celebration."

Eothain silently nodded, and headed for the doors to instruct his guards.

"Let me look at your arm, beloved," Lothiriel said with concern, catching hold of it to examine the damage. He had not noticed her approach, so caught up was he in his own thoughts.

"It is not serious," he assured her, enfolding her in his embrace. "I am just grateful that you are unharmed."

Over his wife's shoulder, he glimpsed Gamling watching them, waiting to see if they had further need of him.

Eomer smiled at his friend and doorward. A barely perceptible nod said more to Gamling than a wealth of words ever could.

**THE END**

Jul – 30 Dec 2012

Forgoil is the Dunlending word for the Men of Rohan, referring to their straw-colored hair

Rohan borders:

- North – Limlight river

- West – Isen river

- South – White Mountains

- East – Anduin river/Gondor

after Ring War, borders expanded:

- North – to Lorien border (?Glanduin/Nimrodel river over to Anduin?)

- West – Greyflood/Gwathlo river and sea, north of Isen river

- South – White Mountains (area betw Isen and Adorn was already Rohan's – called west-march, diff. than one in Shire)

- East – Anduin river/Gondor

_**End note: **__** It is best that you read the Elfwine Chronicles in the order they were written.**__** The more of them that I wrote, the more likely I was to make reference to one of the previous ones and something that happened there. If you want to read them in order, go to the top of this page and click on my name (Deandra). That will take you to my profile page. Scroll down and you will find all the stories I have written. The Elfwine Chronicles are in order from bottom to top since ffn shows them in the order they were posted. A few were posted out of number order, but you can read them in posting order or number order since those few won't be affected in the story content.**_


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